The Questioning: Sortulissa
by PoolstripeTheCat
Summary: Months have passed, and rumors have been spread, until the stinging truth was unleashed. Soren and Otulissa, now an "item". Everyone is the hollow is shocked, but maybe it may takes some questions to realize whose "Sortulissa"'s bitter enemy really is, and at the end Soren may be the shocked. Rated T for safety.


Soren's head turned all the way around frantically, as owls holding pretty decorations in their beaks whizzed by; tonight was the Questioning, owls did it when there was something exciting going on. It was a bit like a game show. Otulissa sat by, her bright yellow eyes glued to an enormous book.

"Oh, Soren, don't fret," Otulissa murmured soothingly, her eyes still stuck on her page. "Don't fret!" Soren and Twilight roared. Twilight had been flying by and had heard his Otulissa's remark. "Hello, Twilight." Otulissa shut her book and eyed him closely, but the Great Gray held his ground.

Otulissa glared at him good and hard before dropping her stare to help her depressed mate. Ever since word spread about the rumor of Sortulissa, everyone, especially Boron and Barran, had been utterly confused. So, it came to Boron's decision to host a game show in the great tree, and 'Sortulissa' would be their first episode. Cook was assigned to cook a feast, along with the assistance of Primrose, a Pygmy owl, and a nest maid snake. Madame Plonk was assigned Mrs. Plithiver and Octavia to create a theme song for such an occasion; and every other owl would participate in decorations, unless ill physically or mentally or simply too young. But all owls that were interested were to participate in the Questioning.

And so a feast was served; raw mice bits served on a bed of boiled wheat for the collier and weather interpretation, since Ezylryb was so strict about the 'hair on it' rule. Roasted vole in wheatgrass wraps, mouse stew with herbs, milkberry tea and tarts and starling soup with milkberry seeds for the 'leaner' pickers; starling was known for its raw, liquid-y taste, so dried milkberry seeds would freshen up the meal. All owls had piled in for the buffet; the decoration crew was simply famished, but their hard work showed; the main hollow now had a stage made from dead branches and limbs from the great tree which had fallen off (Dewlap's idea. "Such a great use for these poor old branches!" Dewlap had exclaimed. She had fussed and whined and demanded it until Boron had had enough and allowed her and the Ga'Hoology chaw to continue with it).

The dead limbs fastened together neatly by the strong milkberry vines. Dead leaves scattered the stage and acted as a carpet. Tinier limbs that stuck out from branches were used as chairs and thus made Dewlap even happier, for it would break her heart to tear off the limbs of the great tree. Tightly woven milkberry vines created a sparkling silver banner, and candles flickered in the far corners of the room. On the pale gray banner were splotches of great, sparkling red; they had used crushed milkberries and used their juice for ink. The skin and seeds were used in the soup.

Nest maid's scales sparkled and reflected in the candle's light; only the dim red fires lit up the hollow as the blue night seeped into the hollow. Otulissa and Soren sat at a table, alone, as the other owls jittered excitedly for the upcoming event. The nest maid was asleep, but yet the young owls spoke in low voices. Otulissa quietly sipped her starling soup, and Soren picked glumly at his mouse chunk, tearing away the raw pink flesh with his sharp talons. Then, as if noticing Otulissa for the first time, he asked, without thinking, in a sober tone: "You're on a diet?" As the absurdness of his question registered inside Soren, his black eyes glittered with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I'm just really nervous and my head is spinning-" Otulissa leaned in and gave Soren a long kiss.

When they parted, Soren's beak gaped. Otulissa laughed. "Don't worry, just burn off all the peer pressure and we'll go through together." She smiled warmly. Soren remembered she was one of the first owls he met when he first arrived at the great tree; how sharply she had spoken to him, the appalling vibe he got from her. But now she was his mate. It was strange, he always thought he and Gylfie would end up mates, even though he felt nothing for Gylfie but a timid, brotherly love. But the hot passion he felt deep in his gizzard was for Otulissa, and Otulissa only. So, with a deep breath, they flew up to the stage, to the awaiting eyes of dozens of hundreds of owls.

...

"Hello. We invite all of you, whether you a little Elf Owl-" Gylfie gave a loud sniff at this as her king spoke, but it went unnoticed under Boron's booming voice. "-Or a big Great Gray, or everything in between. We show you the Questioning, which shall be held once appropriate, and I know you are all anticipating tonight's topic. Now, it is not the Ga'Hoolian way to meddle and ponder the love life of our fellow owls, but it has been on high demand we create such an occasion. Remember, no profanity is allowed when asking questions. Which means we shall not ask whether or not Otulissa is expecting an owlet, so, without further ado, Soren and Otulissa!" The crowd exploded into roaring cheers, all which mind's were swimming in plumage deep anticipation. "Now, we have collected all questions from the Question Box, and tonight is to be a long night, due to all the questions. So, Soren, the first one is for you: What most distinguishing feature have you noticed about Otulissa ever since you started being mates?"

Soren felt all pressure on him, and even Otulissa glanced at him with an expectant look. "Well, it's safe to say I've noticed a lot." Soren replied honestly. The crowd broke into laughter. This was it! Soren was feeding the crowd some humor. It would be a great start to an endless night.

"Next question is for Otulissa!" The crowd groaned, and not because of displeasure; Otulissa answered so vividly it could make even the the toughest owl's eyes brim. As their hearts broke, and their gizzards shook in nervousness, and tears of laughter sprouted from their eyes, the crowd was preparing themselves for what might be another gizzard-throbbing question.  
"Oh. It seems it's for both of you." Barran eyed her mate as he spoke, as if questioning. It was the final question, and the hours have been full of laughter and sobs, heartbreak and comfort food, milkberry wine and stronger spirits, especially for Barran. Before she knew it she had gulped down a half of Cook's supply of wine, due to such depressing, heartfelt tales.

Boron drank only one glass of mead but drove himself sober by the despair and tears that clung to the air. "What makes you love each other?" The room went silent. Even Otulissa was stumped, but Soren felt as of he could answer this is pure daylight. "Easy." He said, and the crowd gasped. "Otulissa makes me feel like the Great Downing is happening in my gizzard, soft little clumps that rocket down hard to the ground. It's pain, it's ticklish, it's pleasure, it's a strange throbbing feeling. It grew on the night of the tapping when I went to the hollow early. It was always a bit there, I think, but it was hidden by the whimsical emotions I feel for my friends," he gestured to Mrs. P's table, where Twilight was clutching his heart and cradling Digger, and Gylfie's mouth was gaping.  
"For my rybs." He pointed out Bubo, Poot and Ezylryb out of the crowd, and even Ezylryb looked touched. "For Madame Plonk and her wonderful music which makes my gizzard melt to liquid, like there's nothing I can do but just listen." Madame Plonk's sixth glass of milkberry wine crashed to the hard wood floor. "For my king," Boron dipped his head. "And my queen."

This time Soren bowed to Her Highness, and she gave a slow, solemn nod. "I feel a great emotion for all the owls in here, " the crowd gave a small cheer through their choking sobs. "And even for the tree." The leaves rustled as if in a respecting gesture; Dewlap nodded. "But she is my world away from the tree." Soren turns to his mate, whose eyes are dripping liquid. The hollow was silent. And then a small voice Soren knew so well broke the drab, eerie mist. "I wrote that one," Gylfie cried through a leaf handkerchief which was almost as big as she was. "But why would you want to know?" Soren asked, befuddled. "Why not just ask me in the quiet, why in the Questioning?" Gylfie sobbed and shook her head, her beak buried in the soggy handkerchief. "Because I'm in love with you, pellet-brain!" The entire room gasped. Madame Plonk fainted. Barran's wine dose took over and she blacked out. Boron stood, stunned. Twilight went yeep.  
"This is a very interesting turn of events," Boron chose his words carefully. Soren was shocked, and for a minute he was scared he would go yeep with Twilight. Digger was already flying over him, and Poot had just started to revive Madame Plonk. Otulissa had excused herself from the room and busied herself by going to Cook, asking for some milkberry tarts for the queen.

...

Soren was still flabbergasted. Why would Gylfie do this to him? "Gylfie, we need to talk." Soren said, this time not confused, he was angry. Gylfie could hear the anger in his tone and shied away. "Gylfie." His voice sharp, he took his friend by the wing and flew up to their hollow.

Once inside, Soren blew up. "WHY? Why would you do that to me in front of the entire hollow?" Gylfie was crying, and Soren was trying to contain his tears of rage, but they spurted out of this eyes, staining his beautiful, dry white feathers. "Because I just wanted to know-" "Wanted to know what? There's nothing to KNOW, now, because you can't keep your beak shut! Next time, contain your feelings. I already have a mate." He stormed out, leaving Gylfie to drown in her own tears.


End file.
